


Voice for the Voiceless

by PolygamousSquamous



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mayor Oswald Cobblepot, Mystery, Politics AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2020-11-08 07:17:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20831519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolygamousSquamous/pseuds/PolygamousSquamous
Summary: Oswald is the mayor of Gotham and a natural-born politician but he’s lonely. His life changes when he goes to the opening of Falcone’s Home and School for Orphans expecting to donate money and instead he comes back with a son. Just when Oswald thinks he has finally made his life complete he and Martin meet a mysterious stranger living on the streets named Ed who has lost the ability to talk. As he tries to win reelection, figure out how to be a father, and find out the mystery of what happened to Ed, Oswald starts falling for him. He has to figure out how to make sure this doesn’t end in disaster for his career, his city, and his new family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be part of the Big Bang but I never knew when to post it. Both many thanks and many apologies to my artist.

~“Dinner Chez Moi 8 o’clock. Don’t be late”~

Since the moment Oswald met Martin he’d known he could never refuse him anything. 

It was a few months before he would have to start thinking about reelection. Oswald was doing his best to just focus on making the most of his time left in office as Mayor and letting his work speak for itself. 

His chief of staff Tarquin was obviously not on the same page, as evidenced by the fact that he hired an entire Public Relations Team to help with Oswald’s reelection. 

Oswald had allowed it, assuming that the PRT (as Tarquin has so creatively named them) would stay out of his way and keep tabs on the other candidates running while maybe occasionally collaborating with his speechwriters. 

Instead, they started to micromanage his every move throughout the day based on what they thought the optics were. Finally, Oswald had to draw the line when they tried to give him pointers on his clothing choices.

After that Oswald and Tarquin had come to a compromise. The PRT could stay on as long as Oswald was able to dress himself and make his own policy decisions. Oswald also added an additional provision that they were never again to be referred to by that ridiculous acronym whilst in his presence. 

For his part, Tarquin had requested that his team decided how to spin things to the press, were able to review all of Oswald's speeches, and decided what events he would attend. 

Oswald could have just had all of them fired on the spot but Tarquin had always been competent in what he did and intuitive towards Oswald’s needs in the past. After learning how to work with and tolerate Tarquin Oswald didn’t think he could repeat the experience with another new chief of staff. 

Oswald played along with Tarquin’s scheme and that is how he found himself at the grand opening of the Falcone Home and School for Orphans. Besides the obvious draw of all of the photo ops with children and the opportunity for philanthropy, this event had the added bonus of being sponsored by Sofia Falcone. She was the newest up and coming politician who was already rumored to be interested in taking Oswald’s seat as mayor. 

Oswald decided that he hated her. 

An orphanage was probably as blatant as one could possibly be about playing people’s heartstrings to garner sympathy. Not to mention Oswald could not stand children. Orphans or not, children could be more disgusting, mistrustful, cruel, and selfish than any politician he’d ever come across. 

A normal charity event where he had to sweet talk adults and put on his carefully crafted face for the press was fine and dandy but when it came to dealing with children there was no angle or strategy that could prepare him. 

He entered the Orphanage where the event was being held, fully intending to be seen dropping off his check and looking pleasant for the cameras then beat a hasty retreat. 

As was becoming the norm Oswald did not get what he wanted. He had successfully dropped his check within a good view of the events photographer looking poised but discreet as if he didn't want anyone to know how much he was giving. He then began his trek back towards the exit dodging any children in his way and giving polite superficial greetings to any adults. His exit strategy seemed to work until he came face to face with his hostess. 

To the outside eye, Oswald Cobblepot and Sofia Falcone appeared to be two old friends conversing easily but in actuality, nothing could have been further from the truth. Her immaculately lined red lips pulled back into a smile that didn’t quite reach her large and normally expressive eyes as she addressed him. “Oswald, how good of you to show up.” 

Cameras flashed and Oswald did his best not to bristle at the condescending tone and the implications behind her statement. 

“Hello, Ms. Falcone.”

“Please call me Sofia, Mister Mayor.” Her jackal’s smile returned as she singsonged his title making light of it especially since she already addressed him so casually by his first name.

“Well Sofia, I’m not nearly as good as you are for hosting this benefit in the first place.” 

She gestured around them being sure the cameras got every angle of her perfectly chiseled jaw and deep dimples. “Well, this orphanage is my passion project.” 

“As evidenced by your name on the side of the building.” Oswald clipped out shortly. 

Rather than recognizing Oswald’s jab for what it was, she laughed easily taking it in stride. The only sign she caught his meaning at all was a slight clenching in her jaw and a glint of mischief in her eye.

“It really isn’t about me though Oswald. Everything I do is for the children.” Her eyes narrowed and turned calculating as she saw the slight curl in his lip at the mention of children. “You really must meet them, Oswald.”

“Oh no thank you, perhaps another time. I was just leaving.”

“Please Oswald.” she continued a bit louder drawing the attention of those in the vicinity. “The children have never had the opportunity to meet someone nearly as important as the Mayor of Gotham!” She projected her voice even more as she went on, practically yelling the last part and successfully getting the eyes of not just every adult but also every child in the room on them. 

Oswald really did hate her. She had managed to successfully paint him into a corner. He could practically see all the headlines: ‘No Chance of Reelection: Heartless Mayor Doesn’t Care about Orphans’. He swallowed his mounting sense of dread and plastered on a smile.

“Well I can’t deny the children, now can I?” 

Sofia quickly gestured one of the staff over and told them to gather all the children. She then hooked her arm through Oswald’s and began to whisk him through the crowd towards the sitting room to wait. At least half a dozen spectators and reporters trailed after them but were quickly stopped by security before they could actually enter. 

‘That figures.’ Oswald thought. He was being forced to interact with children and there weren’t even any cameras around to make it worthwhile. 

When he entered the sitting room Oswald was surprised to see some children already inside. There was a larger boy and girl who were advancing on a smaller curly-headed boy with something hanging around his neck. Sofia stood just inside the door, not sure what to make of the situation. Oswald wasn’t so hesitant, he’d been through enough bullying in his lifetime to recognize it when he saw it. 

The second he saw the situation he was transported back to his childhood as the scrawny kid getting cornered by the larger ones. He pushed past Sofia about to put a stop to it but before he could the small curly-headed boy took matters into his own hands. 

He took ahold of the item around his neck - a small notepad- and whipped it off in one fluid motion settling into a ready stance. He disconnected a pencil from the notepad and held it out as his weapon. He most likely would have finished this maneuver by stabbing the closest bully in the gut had Sofia not snapped out of her momentary stupor. 

She cleared her throat and stepped forward announcing their presence. The two larger children immediately jumped back and tried to look like the picture of innocence. The smaller boy did no such thing, he stood up straighter and looked Sofia directly in her eye as if challenging her to say something. It was not at all a look that said ‘thank you for saving me,’ it was a look that said ‘I could have handled them myself’. 

It was that look that really started it all for Oswald. 

As the other children filed in he saw that most gave the small curly-haired boy a wide berth. Sofia had all of them approach Oswald one by one and introduce themselves. Most of them clearly had no concept of his importance other than that he knew ‘Miss Sofia’ as they called her. Oswald sat through introduction after introduction all the while never taking his eyes off the little boy. He was the last to approach and instead of mumbling his name and shuffling his feet like most of the others had he simply handed Oswald a piece of paper from the notepad around his neck. 

When Oswald unfolded it the only thing on it was the boy’s name: Martin and underneath he spelled out how to pronounce it: (Mar- TEEN). 

“A pleasure to meet you, Martin,” Oswald said lowering himself down to speak directly to him. 

Martin didn’t answer back he just blinked at him owlishly.

Oswald straightened then and looked at Sofia his eyes askance. She stepped back into Oswald’s space and whispered in his ear. 

“Martin has never spoken. Our staff has yet to figure out if he can and chooses not to or if he isn’t able.” Oswald’s gaze drifted back to the Martin as she continued to speak. “He carries this notepad to communicate but mostly he keeps to himself and we have no idea the circumstances that led to him being orphaned.”

As Oswald studied the boy before him, who still had that challenge in his eye, he was filled with some strange unnamable emotion. He saw so much of himself in this young boy. He was brighter than all of the others that's for sure and if he could talk Oswald was sure that these plebeians weren't worthy of whatever he had to say.

Oswald immediately felt a strong connection with this child. He was similar to how Oswald had been as a child but that wasn’t the extent of it. Oswald was struck with an overwhelming urge to help this young boy in a real way and he knew he had the means to do it.

He turned to Sofia once more stating simply, “My people will contact you about the necessary papers in the morning.” 

“The papers for what?” She asked. 

“Martin’s adoption.” Oswald said letting the ‘of course’ in his statement be evident in his tone. He then nodded once reassuring himself of his decision before turning on his heel and heading for the exit.

When Oswald looked back he saw that Sofia’s mouth fell open in shock and her perfectly controlled facade dissipated for perhaps the first time that evening. Oswald couldn’t help but smile to himself at the lovely added bonus that the look on her face had been. 

~“Listen to me. I am not the man you think I am. I would never do anything to hurt you. I had to kill him because he hit you do you understand that? I did it for you I promise I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you. I loved you since the first moment that I saw you. Kristen. Kristen? No no no no no, please. Please no. No!”~


	2. Chapter 2

~“Bravo Jim. I’d clap but I have your gun in my hand.”~

“Welcome to your new home.” 

Oswald watched as Martin’s entire face lit up upon seeing the Van Dahl Mansion for the first time. 

He gave the boy the whole tour sparing him no detail. He had not expected Martin to love all of the gothic-inspired architecture and paintings but he looked on each new part of the house with untampered fascination. When Oswald told him that the house was haunted Martin had taken it in stride furiously scribbling on his notepad to ask whether or not he would get the chance to talk to a real ghost. 

Oswald saved Martin's room for last. The room was lavish but sparsely decorated so that he would have the chance to add personal touches once he got them. The walls were painted his favorite color of sky blue which made the room seem so much brighter than any of the others in the house. In the corner near the window, there was an easel and a desk along with all sorts of art materials. Oswald had discovered Martin liked to draw to express himself in addition to writing so he decided why not allow him to take his talents even further. 

Oswald's personal favorite feature of the room was the buttons installed in the bedside table and next to the door that was meant to alert Oswald and the house staff should Martin need anything. this was just one of the many preparations that Oswald had made to welcome Martin into his life. He'd also hired a nutritionist, an extra driver, and a tutor. The tutor was going to teach him until he learned sign language which Martin and Oswald would study together. As soon as he mastered sign language Oswald was planning on sending Martin and an interpreter to the most prestigious private school in Gotham. 

He wanted nothing but the best for his boy and he was determined to get it. Martin melted his heart a little more every day they spent together. When he began getting enthusiastic hugs and notes that were addressed to 'Dad’ he found he didn't really mind the changes he'd made at all. 

***  
Tarquin and his team had been shocked, to say the least. 

Oswald had only gone to the orphanage under duress in the first place and then he came back telling them to prepare a spin for the press about the mute orphan boy he had decided to adopt. At first, they thought perhaps this was his idea of a sympathy grab to humanize him before the election. They tried telling him it was too obvious and blatant of a play but he would not be swayed. 

The media's initial jabs on late-night television were just as the PRT had feared. Comments such as ‘Most politicians would just adopt a dog’ and ‘Cobblepot has one orphan, Falcone has a whole school’ were thrown around for the first week or so. 

It wasn't until Tarquin saw Oswald with the child that he realized his team and the media had it all wrong. Oswald had adopted Martin because he genuinely cared about him. He knew that in order to save Oswald’s reelection campaign he just had to let Gotham see what they had. Once the people witnessed Oswald around Martin they couldn’t help but realize how genuine their bond was. 

He and the team decided to have a single interview. They would have it in his house and use footage of him and Martin going through their daily routines in order to really show the new domestic and homey side of Oswald. They vetted several reporters and in the end, they settled on Valerie Vale. She was a relative newcomer but she had quickly established clout for herself and when she reported people listened. 

Oswald and Martin performed beautifully. Martin was just the right amount of shy around the cameras so he didn't look like he was being coached. For Oswald, they went with more candid footage and were able to capture the pure adoration on his face when he talked to Martin. 

When it was time for Martin's tutoring, Oswald and Valerie sat down for their one on one interview. She set up all her equipment in his sitting room, lighting Oswald from the front while also showcasing the fireplace roaring behind him. Those watching the interview could see the older family portraits hanging above the fireplace and the smaller framed pictures of his late mother, Martin, and himself on the mantle. Once they were settled and the cameras were rolling, Valerie gave a brief introduction and started with her questioning.

“Mayor Cobblepot I want to begin by asking you a question that I believe is on a lot the mind of your constituents: Why adopt now?”

“This may come as a shock to most, but this was not at all something that I had planned. When I visited the gala I fully intended to do my part by simply donating money to the Falcone Home. It wasn’t until I met Martin that I realized there was something so much more substantial that I could be doing. When I first saw him he was standing up for himself while being bullied by two of the older children. I learned that he had not spoken a word since he was found and that his only method of communication was a notepad he carried around his neck on a string. I saw him and I realized that the system was not going to work for a child like him. I knew that there was direct action I could take that would make his life better. I grew up a poor child to a single mother who was also a first-generation immigrant. I dreamed, as we all do, that one day I would have more wealth and more power at my disposal. I wanted to be able to provide for my mother and to have the courage to stand up to my bullies. Now that I live a more comfortable, safer life I think that the best thing I can do is share that life with Martin and be a father to him that I never had.”

Tarquin fist-pumped the air and gave Oswald a thumbs up from around the corner where he was watching the interview. The public was going to eat it up.

Valerie did not appear to be moved by his speech.

“Are you implying that the Falcone Home and School for Orphans is an inadequate facility?”

“I believe in what Miss Falcone is doing. The facility itself was made and staffed in a short amount of time and as such is still a work in progress. Part of the reason why I donated what I did at the gala was to help ensure that the facility can make some much-needed improvements.”

A smile tugged at Valerie’s lips at the nonanswer, but she chose to take it for what it was and move on.

“What effect do you think becoming a parent will have on your time left in office and your reelection campaign?”

“Becoming a parent makes the issues we are dealing with in Gotham more important than ever for me. Meeting Martin has brought my attention to the fact that we are still failing the youth of this city. We need to work to make Gotham safe for them, we need to channel our money into social services and schools. We need to support children who are special needs and educate our youth to help end bullying. These are issues on which my stance has always been very clear but having a child has made them that much more personal for me. As long as I am in office I will do everything I can to build toward the Gotham of tomorrow.”

The rest of the interview went by pretty much the same. Valerie began asking more specific questions about Oswald’s policies and plans. Tarquin couldn’t have been happier. Oswald knew his talking points and always managed to strike the perfect balance between emotional investment and professionalism. Tarquin wished he and his team could take credit but he knew that Oswald was just born for politics. 

After the crew and cameras had all cleared Tarquin sent his team home, it was getting late and he was sure Oswald and the kid would want to enjoy their dinner. He was just about to head out himself but as he passed the sitting-room he caught a glimpse of Oswald sitting staring into the fire, an untouched glass of wine clutched in one hand and the other absentmindedly rubbing his bad leg. 

Tarquin lingered awkwardly for a second by the door wanting to announce his departure but also not wanting to break the tranquility of the scene. Oswald looked calmer than Tarquin had ever seen him, especially after a full day of press. 

Oswald sensed his presence and turned towards him with a sad smile, giving Tarquin a curt nod and beckoning him closer. Tarquin shuffled over. Oswald held out his glass of wine to Tarquin who took it with raised eyebrows.

“Wouldn’t want it to go to waste,” Oswald said turning back to the fire. “I poured it out of habit more than anything else.”

Tarquin opened his mouth to say that he was actually just leaving but then snapped it shut again at the sight of the tears swimming in Oswald’s glasz eyes. Instead, he sat in the opposite armchair and sipped at the wine unsure of what was wrong or what else he could offer besides his silent companionship. 

Just as Tarquin finished the glass and was looking for an escape Oswald inhaled deeply wiping a tear from his cheek and turning to face Tarquin with a smile. Not a sad and forlorn smile or a phony one like he wore in front of the cameras, the real smile that none of them had known existed until Martin came along. 

“He’s it.”

“Sir? I don’t follow.”

“Martin. He’s the missing piece.”

Tarquin excused himself, completely unsure of what to make of the situation. He set the wine glass down and wished Oswald a good night. 

As he sped off into the night back to his own apartment Tarquin found himself thinking about what a lonely city Gotham was and how those who ran it may have been the most lonely of all. 

~“Were you my friend? Or did you just pity me? Oh, weird little Ed with his little silly wordplay and his little riddles.”~


	3. Chapter 3

~“This is who I am, it was just finally admitting the truth to myself. Well, that and murdering some people.”~

After the interview aired Oswald's polling numbers shot to an all-time high. All Gotham could talk about was their mayor’s new son. He was quickly nicknamed Gotham’s Sweetheart and Oswald was rarely seen without him during public appearances. 

Members of the press and all of Gotham’s elite began to learn sign language in order to get the chance to speak with Martin. His translator found that more often than not he wasn’t actually translating instead he was just assisting with any lingering misunderstandings. 

When Martin started school he found the other children welcoming for the most part and those that weren’t so friendly were deterred by his father’s name and private security detail. 

Life was good for Martin and his personality began to shine through as he acclimated to his new life. He was artistic, intelligent, and mischevious, often playing elaborate pranks on Oswald’s staff. The addition of sign language did not change the fact that besides to Oswald he didn’t have very much to say. He preferred instead to observe people and was very skilled at reading them. He was perceptive and people always seemed to let their guard down around him, almost like they forgot he was mute and not deaf or blind. 

Whenever he would find some new juicy bit of information the first thing he would do was tell his father who would always listen and make sure Martin knew how invaluable his insight was. Oswald would always listen to Martin and never treated him like some dumb kid. Instead, Oswald made it clear that they were learning from each other. 

***

Oswald and Martin were just leaving Wayne Manor. 

They had shown up for the annual Wayne Charity Gala and once they had finished making all the usual rounds, shaking hands, and posing for pictures they had managed to ditch Tarquin and his team somewhere in the crowd. 

It had been one of those nights where Martin’s shyness and anxiety had gotten the best of him and he could not handle much more of being in the spotlight. Oswald had noticed this of course and signed to him discreetly, asking if he wanted to sneak out of the party and go have some ice cream. The answer had of course been a resounding yes so they slipped out to the car and told their driver to head for the nearest ice cream shop that was still open. 

Once there they ordered their usuals (Oswald had pistachio and Martin had chocolate with sprinkles) they got back in the car and ate them on the way back to the manor. Oswald noticed that Martin’s mood had improved immensely. The young boy stared out of the window contentedly as he licked his ice cream watching the rain that had begun to fall over their city. 

Oswald was struck all of a sudden with an idea for how he could make Martin smile. He rolled down the partition and told his driver to drive through the biggest puddle he could find.

Martin immediately turned back to his father, mischief and disbelief clear in his eyes. Oswald simply shrugged and signed: "Look out the window or you will miss it,"

Martin did just that as they drove through a puddle and a huge torrent of water splashed up around the car. For a second his smile widened impossibly but as he continued looking all of a sudden his face fell into concern.

Oswald was about to ask what was wrong when Martin began signing furiously for them to stop the car. Oswald was quick to comply banging on the glass and yelling for the driver to pull over. Just as the car came to a full stop Oswald turned to Martin to ask him what he saw but before he could Martin was opening his door and running down the sidewalk back the way they came.

Oswald scrambled to follow him. It was so unlike Martin to just run away. They had no security with them, having left them all at the party, so Oswald tried to prepare himself for anything as he stumbled out of the car and back after Martin. 

The rain was coming down hard but Oswald didn’t have the presence of mind to lament the loss of his and Martin’s custom-tailored suits at that precise moment. He was shocked to see Martin standing only a couple feet in front of a figure hunched over on the side of the road. As he got closer he could see that the figure was a man, soaking wet and shivering. Oswald put two and two together and realized that this man must have been hit with the huge splash of water they just created and that must have been what Martin saw out of the window. 

Oswald quickly put himself in between Martin and the man and put on his best apologetic smile. 

“I am so sorry, I swear we didn’t see you on the side of the road. I was just trying to make my son happy by driving through a puddle. It sounds childish now that I’m explaining it to you but please forgive us.” 

As Oswald stretched his hand out towards the man he recoiled violently from his touch causing all three of them to jump with surprise. 

It was then that Oswald got a good look at the man who seemed to be the only one out walking the streets in this storm. He was tall and lanky all angles and protruding bones. He was dressed only in a thin green sweater with a collared shirt underneath both completely soaked through and some slacks that looked equally ruined. His hair fell down in wet curls on his forehead and was stopped by a pair of large horn-rimmed glasses. Behind the glasses were a set of wide brown eyes that showed many things, chief among them being panic and confusion. 

Oswald realized he had stumbled into more than he previously thought. What was this man doing out on the streets in the middle of the storm with nothing, not even an umbrella? 

Against his better judgment and his mounting sense of dread Oswald held his hands up placatingly and stepped a bit closer to the man.

“Are you alright?”

The man breathed in and opened his mouth to speak but when he tried no words came out. His eyes widened in surprise and he tried again to speak. Over and over again he opened his mouth trying to form words but the only sounds that came out were broken sounding grunts. As he kept trying his breathing became erratic before he finally stopped trying to talk altogether and just seemed to be full-on panicking. 

To say that Oswald was now officially way beyond his depth would have been a gross understatement. He stood there frozen when he felt a tug on his sleeve. Martin stepped forward and signed.

"Maybe he is like me"

The man’s breathing began to even out as he watched Martin sign. Martin noticed and came out from behind Oswald to face the man.

"Do you know sign language?"

The man hesitated for a minute his expression hopeful before he brought his shaking hands up to make the proper gestures.

"Yes, I do."

Oswald then asked: “Do you need any help? Is there someplace we can take you?”

The man’s eyes turned sad and he looked away as he answered.

"No. There is no place for me to go."

The man must’ve been homeless. That would explain his lack of belongings and how thin he was. There was no telling what he had been through or why he found himself unable to speak.

“Well at least let us get you somewhere out of the rain,” Oswald said gesturing back towards their car.

The man looked at the pair of them dubiously, torn between going with them and bolting, although by the looks of him it didn’t seem like he would get far. In the end, the need to get out of the cold and the rain won out and he nodded.

The three of them made their way back to the car and if their driver had any opinions about their newest passenger he kept them to himself. Oswald leaned up to the partition and told the driver to make his way towards the nearest homeless shelter.

He turned back to see Martin and the mysterious man deep in a conversation.

"What is your name?"

"E-d-w-a-r-d"

"My name is Martin and this is my father. He is rich so he’s going to take good care of you just like he takes care of me so don’t you worry."

“Martin!” Oswald immediately winced at how harsh his voice had come out when he saw that it made both Martin and Edward jump with surprise. He softened his tone and tried again. “Why don’t you turn up the heat and turn on the heated seats for our guest. I’m sure he’s got to be freezing.”

While Martin was distracted Oswald quickly signed to Edward.

"Sorry about my son. He gets over-excited sometimes. "

"It's fine." Edward signed back, even if the look on his face conveyed it was actually anything but.

Oswald tried his best to put Edward's defeated and forlorn look out of his mind as they headed towards the homeless shelter. 

When they arrived Edward signed his thanks and got out of the car. Before he could close the door behind himself Martin was unbuckled again and slipping out of the car with him.

This time Oswald just sighed heavily and followed, mentally preparing the speech he was going to have to give Martin on staying within the vehicle at all times. 

He hobbled inside to find Martin standing in front of a woman who seemed to work at the shelter and signing at her exasperatedly. Edward lingered a couple of steps behind trying to make himself seem as small as humanly possible.

Oswald stepped up and placed a hand on Martin's shoulder before addressing the worker himself.

"Is there anyone on staff at this facility who knows sign language? My son and I found this man wandering the streets. He seems to be mute."

"No sir there is no one here who knows sign language."

"How do you expect deaf and mute people to be able to find help here?" 

"It's never crossed my mind sir honestly. Most of us here are just volunteers." She then turned to address Edward speaking loudly as if unsure whether or not he would understand. "I'm sure I could find you a pen and some paper?"

Oswald was taken aback at the fact that obviously no one had stopped to think about situations like these. Oswald had the horrible thought that had he never met Martin he could have easily aged out of foster care and ended up in Edward's position, relegated to using a notepad to communicate for the rest of his life with no one even caring enough to help educate him or themselves.

Something was going to have to change.

Oswald grabbed Martin's hand and turned on his heel heading for the exit.

"Let's get back in the car." 

Martin waved at Edward, sad to be leaving his new friend behind but Oswald stopped and outstretched his other hand towards Edward. 

"I meant all of us," Oswald said smiling with what he hoped was encouragement.

Edward was shocked for a moment and Oswald continued.

"Only if you want to of course. You can stay with us for the night and tomorrow I can call some people who will help you."

Much like he had on the side of the road Edward paused weighing his options. He looked back and forth between Oswald and the startled woman who for her part looked as though she still had a hard time grasping what was going on. 

After a small eternity, Edward nodded and placed his hand gently in Oswald's to be led back to the car. 

This time the driver didn't bother hiding his surprise when they all piled back in and Oswald instructed him to take them home. 

~“How about one last riddle for old times sake? A nightmare for some, for others a savior I come. My hands cold and bleak it’s the warm hearts they seek.”~


	4. Chapter 4

~“You’ve already put me in hell, but not for long. I’ll find my way out. This place is just one big puzzle and puzzles are my forte. Nobody beats me.”~

Tarquin showed up to the Van Dahl Mansion around his usual time. Every morning he tried to come just when Oswald and Martin should be finishing their breakfast so that he could give them itineraries and news for the day. 

When Olga led him in he wasn't surprised to hear Oswald and Martin still at the breakfast table. He thought that perhaps it had just been a slower than usual morning for them. He was surprised however when he rounded the corner to see that the table had a third occupant. 

The man was unfamiliar to Tarquin but that wasn’t his only cause for alarm. He was young and undeniably attractive. He had large brown doe eyes behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, set into a face that looked like it could have easily belonged to a model. He was all cheekbones and harsh angles but just on the side of skinny to where Tarquin could tell he had been living on the street or at least skipping meals. He was sitting there at the table curls still wet from a shower, wearing a pair of too short pajama pants, a practically sheer white undershirt and completing the look was Oswald’s own gold embroidered dressing gown. 

Unbelievable and unacceptable were the two words that immediately came to his mind. He had no idea how this strange and attractive young man came to be sitting at the Mayor’s breakfast table but he had been in the politics game long enough to have a few guesses. He hadn’t figured Oswald for being so sloppy. He knew plenty of politicians who went through less than savory means to get some satisfaction, but this was so unlike Oswald. To let an unvetted stranger off the street spend the night in his home, and then to let said stranger wear his clothes and eat at his table with his son. 

Tarquin cleared his throat and watched, with no small amount of satisfaction, as the strange young man jumped at his presence. Martin just signed hello and kept on eating but Oswald at least had the decency to acknowledge the absurdity of the scene that Tarquin found himself entering. He excused himself from the table and pulled Tarquin into the sitting room.

Instead of the explanation, Tarquin was expecting the first thing out of Oswald’s mouth was a question.

“Did you know that this city has no programs in place to help disabled homeless people.”

“Pardon?” 

"I spent all night looking into it after we got back and there are absolutely no resources dedicated to helping disabled people who are wards of the state, either by the government or the private sector."

"Sir what are you- "

"I'll need someone in research to look into this so we can see what-”

“Oswald!” 

The torrent of words and ideas about to come out of Oswald’s mouth were cut short at Tarquin’s tone and the fact that he had used his first name for what may have been the first time in all their years working together. 

Tarquin took a steadying breath for a minute and brought his voice out calmly when he next spoke.

“Who was that in your dining room with Martin?”

***

Tarquin had not taken the news that the mayor was taking in another stray very well at all but Oswald refused to put him out on the street or in a facility where he would not be able to communicate with anyone. Tarquin and Oswald were forced to do what they always did and compromise. 

Edward could stay in the mansion, until they found him someplace to go, on the condition that he stay in the mansion. If Oswald wanted to risk his and Martin’s safety that fell under the jurisdiction of his security team. Tarquin was more concerned with his image and he couldn't have people making the same assumptions about Edward that he did.

Tarquin would also be completing a full background check on Edward to see if he could find out where he came from and his medical history. He didn’t like the fact that an attractive young man who cannot speak just so happened to run into the mayor who the whole city knows has a mute son. The whole thing just felt too neat.

Oswald at least acknowledged that much as being true but he couldn’t shake the feeling the Edward was being genuine. Much like when he found Martin, Edward had seemed so small and lost trying desperately to just make it. Oswald believed it was fate that brought Edward to them. 

It was because of this that Tarquin created his last and final condition: Oswald had to keep his distance from Edward. He couldn’t risk getting distracted or worse with Edward in case things went South. 

Oswald reluctantly agreed, seeing as he was already so busy trying to keep up with all the re-election campaigning on his plate. Tarquin delegated the task of finding information on Edward to Oswald’s head of security Victor Zsasz. He wasn’t exactly the most subtle person but he was loyal to a fault when it came to Oswald and was never one for talking to the press given his own questionable background.

So that was the routine they settled themselves into. Zsasz looked into Edward’s past, Tarquin oversaw the campaign and Oswald just continued on with his mayoral duties all while maintaining a distance from Edward.

Edward just ended up wandering the house exploring and making fun for himself. He’d especially taken to frequenting the kitchen, the study, and the greenhouse all areas where he would study as much as he could and on days where he worked up the nerve he would experiment. Some days though he wouldn’t make it past his bathroom. He would go stand in front of the mirror and try to speak until he was blue in the face with tears of frustration forming in his eyes. 

Most afternoons Edward ended up spending with Martin once he got back from school. Martin who actually communicated with him directly and who didn’t glare like Tarquin, knowingly stare like Zsasz or avoid his glance altogether as Oswald had since that first night. 

Sometimes Martin would want to hear about Edward’s experiments for the day and would sit perfectly still while Edward did his best to explain them oftentimes resorting to charades when signing would fail him or just to make Martin smile. Other times Martin would rush into the house like a whirlwind, fingers going crazy as he told Edward about his day at school and the latest drama of who likes who. 

In the evenings more often than not Edward would end up having dinner with Martin and Oswald. Oswald’s mantra to keep his distance from Edward could not extend to mealtimes because he wanted to eat with his son and his son wanted to eat with Edward. During breakfast, it wasn’t really a problem the three of them were mostly tired and just focused on eating, during lunch Martina and Oswald were at school and work so Edward ended up fixing it himself or more often than not forgetting to eat at all. Dinners in the mansion were always an event. Olga would make huge spreads of food claiming that all three boys had no meat on their bones. The three of them would sit at the table and once the initial calm of enjoying food passed Oswald would usually launch into some story about someone who he met that day or ask Martin to share about his day at school. Edward didn’t contribute much choosing instead to just listen and enjoy seeing how much the two of them cared about each other.

After dinner, Martin would go to his room to study or draw or go to bed and Oswald would retire to the sitting room. He would take off his jacket, loosen his tie, ditch his cufflinks, and just sit in his armchair looking into the fire. Some nights he would have a glass of brandy or scotch or wine but he never drank it. Once Edward started feeling bold enough he began to sit next to Oswald and silently observe the nightly ritual.

Oswald didn’t have the heart to shoo him away and figured there could be no real harm done by them sitting there silently together. Oswald of all people should have known that words were not necessary. 

~“What has no hands but might knock at your door and you better open up if it does?”~


	5. Chapter 5

~“I can help you take him down, I know everything about Jim Gordon. If you would just let me out of here...”~

Edward and Martin had taken to setting up camp in the study when he got home from school and Oswald was still at work. When he didn’t have any homework Martin would take his art supplies in there where the light was good and paint. Edward would usually just read but once he had read just about every available book he finally got up the courage to uncover the grand piano in the study and play music for Martin to paint by. 

“Edward, what is your favorite color?”

Edward paused in his playing and signed back “Green.” 

“Got it. Thank You.”

“What are you working on?”

“You’ll see when I’m done.”

Ed chuckled silently to himself and went back to playing. He wasn’t playing any song in particular, he was just improvising while he watched Martin. He tried to make his music match the tempo and intensity of his paint strokes on the canvas. 

“Could you teach me how to play?” 

Ed paused again and contemplated it for a second before gesturing Martin over to sit beside him on the piano bench. Once they were seated he showed Martin the hand placements for a few simple chords. They were a bit of a stretch for his smaller fingers but he was a quick study.

“Now start playing those first three chords I showed you over and over." Edward signed.

He watched as Martin went through the progression a few times and once he got into a groove Edward put his hands back on the keys and started to play a melody over the chords. It was simple and playful and whenever Martin would slip or hit a bad note Edward would switch his melody to match and resolve the dissonance. They went on like this for a while before Ed nudged Martin to stop and brought the song to a close with the last chords that he showed him. When Edward looked up he saw that Martin’s smile threatened to split his face in two and he couldn’t hold back a grin of his own. 

“Where did you learn to play like that?”

Martin and Edward nearly jumped out of their skins at the sound of a voice behind them. Once the initial shock wore off they recognized the voice as belonging to Oswald who must have gotten home while they were playing. He stood there in the doorway still in his full suit from work looking positively regal with an unreadable expression on his face.

When Edward signed back to him it was with shaking fingers not sure how Oswald would react to his piano being played. 

“Some lessons when I was younger but mostly I just taught myself to pick it up again” 

Oswald nodded but his expression didn’t change almost as if he were deliberately trying not to make a face. It wasn’t until Martin started signing excitedly that he smiled fondly.

“Edward is going to teach me to play and I’m making a painting for him to put in his room.”

“I’m glad to see you taking an interest in music. I haven’t had time to play the piano in years.”

“Do you play? Can you play something now”

Oswald chuckled and shook his head. “Perhaps some other time. I’m a bit rusty.”

Martin tried his best pouty face but Oswald grinned knowingly and signed back. “Come on you little faker. “

Oswald started towards them and Martin stopped his crocodile tears immediately and jumped up to give his father a hug.

***

That night after dinner Oswald and Edward sat in the sitting room as usual. Oswald was staring into the fire and nursing a glass of red wine while Edward re-read one of Oswald’s books on the chemical properties of plants for a little light reading before bed. Their companionable silence felt different that night, where once it had felt easy and complete now there was an anticipation in the air which crawled over both of their skin.

After a while, Edward gave up reading the same page about mushrooms over and over again and looked up to find Oswald’s gaze had drifted away from the fire and onto him. 

“What’s wrong?” Edward signed, thinking for sure that was the moment where Oswald would tell him not to sit with him anymore or perhaps to just leave the house altogether.

Instead of a rebuke, Oswald gave him a heavy sigh laden with years of sadness and fatigue. He looked into Edward’s eyes as he did it and Edward realized in that moment how rare of an occurrence full eye contact was for the both of them. Edward felt the full brunt of his emotion and likely might have been swallowed whole by it had Oswald not looked away a second later. 

From where Edward sat he had a perfect view of the firelight shifting across Oswald’s features and he was privy to the small sad smile that toyed with the corners of his mouth when he next spoke. 

“My mother, she taught me how to play a long time ago. Her mother taught her back in the old country. One day we found an out of tune old spinet with a couple missing keys on the street and she and I dragged it up the stairs and found a place for it in our tiny apartment. She used to sing me to sleep with a song called My Mother’s Love. When I inherited this house I couldn't bring myself to uncover the grand piano. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Its everything my mother saw when she looked at that beat-up old keyboard.”

Edward sat there for a second before he got up and crossed in front of Oswald’s armchair. Oswald looked at him eyes askance and so Edward held out his hand for him to take just like Oswald had held his hand out to Edward the night he saved him.

Oswald took it and rose to his feet and Edward held on steering him out of the sitting room and back towards the study. Once there he pulled Oswald over to the piano and sat down to play. Within a few seconds, the first chords began and Oswald went perfectly still at the sound immediately recognizing the song.

Edward opened his mouth and strained but he still couldn’t seem to form words instead what came out was a disjointed guttural hum. He could get out only a note or two at a time before it seemed to hurt him and he would have to take a deep shuddering breath but he pushed through and played the whole song. 

Oswald thought he had never heard a sadder or more beautiful sound.

After Edward finished the song he looked down at his lap dejected.

“I’m sorry." He signed. "I used to be a pretty good singer before-”

Oswald took Edward’s hands stopping him from finishing that thought.

“Play it again.”

Edward looked up at Oswald for a second before turning to the keys and starting from the beginning. This time instead of singing he just focused on playing embellishing the melody line making the accompaniment sound fuller and moodier almost like a dream. 

When he got to the last chorus Oswald began to sing.

“The fire has gone out, wet snow from above, but nothing can warm me more than my, my mother’s love. I light another candle, dry the tears from my face. Nothing can protect me more than my mother's warm embrace The path ahead is dark, so dark I cannot see But I will not fear 'cause my mother looks over me.”

Oswald’s voice was high and a little reedy but honest. His vibrato wobbled on the long notes strained by the weight of his emotions.

Edward was completely transfixed by how vulnerable he seemed and how trusting.

As the last notes from the piano filled the air Oswald stepped closer and sat next to Edward on the bench. 

“Thank you,” Oswald said, placing a hand on Edward’s knee companionably. Their eyes met and he gave Edward a smile. This one was still a little sad but comforting and full of admiration, the kind of smile usually reserved for Martin but with something different there, dangerous and unnamable, just below the surface. 

The physical contact and eye contact burned Edward up and he found himself blushing when Oswald retracted his hand and looked forward placing his hands on the keys.

“What else can you play?”

Edward sat there slacked jawed for just a few seconds more than strictly necessary before placing his hands on the keys an octave lower and starting the bass line of heart and soul.

For the first time in nearly twenty years, Oswald’s fingers danced along the keys, finding the melody as though they had never lost it in the first place.

~“Why do they keep disappearing down that hallway?”~


	6. Chapter 6

~“I think that Strange is hiding something and I think that something is a way out of this dump.”~

Tarquin greeted Oswald right as he entered the building per usual but instead of his usual updates and daily agenda, he said in hushed tones. "Sir, if I could have a word with you in your office regarding your house guest."

Oswald rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be guided to his own office while being deprived of the sort of efficiency that he was supposedly paying Tarquin for. It had been weeks since he took Edward in and he had not only gotten used to his company but since the night with the piano, he’d come to rather enjoy it. 

Edward had opened up and a personality emerged that was funny, spontaneous, and full of curiosity. Oswald couldn’t get enough of him. He enjoyed their late-night conversations about nothing at all and everything all at once and how Edward would get so excited that his hands would scarcely be understandable when he signed. Oswald would come home to find Edward teaching Martin the piano, painting with him, doing experiments or on a few rare but appreciated occasions showing him how to cook. He enjoyed it when Edward would play the piano and try so hard to hum along with the notes. As Oswald and Edward came to understand each other they developed their own form of communication, a collection of looks, sounds, words, and signing. Their language was their way to talk over Martin’s head or to subtly comfort one another when the other seemed overwhelmed or sad. 

Oswald still didn’t know much about Edward but at this point, he figured the man was welcome to keep his secrets and to stay as a part of his and Martin’s small family. Oswald had already made his judgments and forgotten that he asked Zsasz and Tarquin to investigate him in the first place. 

Once inside his office, he let all pretense of calm fall away and rounded on Tarquin as he found himself doing more and more as the campaign went on. 

"What is this and why couldn't it wait until the end of the day?" 

"Edward is not who he says he is."

"What do you mean?"

Tarquin stopped him from going on a whole tirade by producing a folder and placing it on Oswald’s desk triumphantly. Tarquin slid the file across Oswald's desk as he continued.

"Mister Edward Nygma a forensic scientist for the GCPD was admitted to Arkham around a year ago after he had a psychotic break that resulted in the death of several of his GCPD colleges including his girlfriend at the time.”

Oswald just stared down at the file in disbelief unable to bother opening it because it could not possibly be the same person he had come to know. 

Tarquin interrupted that train of thought before it could even fully form by reaching over and opening the file to show a picture that was unmistakably Edward. His face and eyes were younger and not quite so sad, he had shorter hair, and he was wearing the horn-rimmed glasses that he had on when Oswald and Martin found him, although in the picture they looked like new. 

All he could do was stare and watch as the calm little life that they had settled into fell apart. He didn’t recall picking up the police file but the next thing he knew he was flipping through it seeing the faces of all the people whose lives Edward had taken.

He could hear Tarquin continue speaking in his ear but he seemed a thousand miles away. How could this possibly be the same person? The same shy Edward who would brush his delicate fingers along the piano keys or create intricate details with a brush or a whisk had picked up a crowbar and violently bashed a police officer’s brains out when he’d gotten close to being caught. Those same slender looking artist's fingers had wrapped around a girl’s neck and squeezed the life out of her. He imagined Kristen Kringle the girl from the file opening her mouth and trying to speak, to beg Edward to stop, only to have no sound come out the way that Edward would whenever he tried to speak. 

Oswald snapped back to the present moment, the reality of the situation hit him.

“Where is Martin? Is it safe?” 

“He just arrived at school, and I’ve taken the liberty of sending some extra security with him.”

Oswald relaxed minutely at hearing that Martin was safe but there was still the small matter of the apparently mentally unstable murderer currently in his home.

Tarquin informed him that he had sent Zsasz by the house to watch Edward until they got there but they didn’t want to cause any more alarm than strictly necessary by getting the police involved prematurely. For all intents and purposes, Edward had been declared sane by a doctor Hugo Strange and therefore was absolved of any and all crimes committed while he was insane. 

While that cleared Edward legally it certainly didn’t comfort Oswald any, who had to walk back through his office and get back into his car to go home while not looking like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown himself. 

He had Tarquin with him every step of the way but he was no help as he was being perfectly silent after having said his piece. 

The whole ride back to the mansion Oswald tried to see Edward as the evil monster that the people in the files described him to be and instead every time he saw only the good in him. He could only see the gentle, kind, dorky Edward that he had been shown. What was driving Oswald crazy more than anything was that he hadn't seen what Edward was capable of underneath all of what he showed him? While part of him was mortified at how easily he let Edward in and took down his walls for him another part was just as easily impressed by the duality that must exist inside of Edward.

Nowhere in the file did it say that Edward was mute. Oswald found himself wondering for a brief moment if even that had been a lie and then the only images he could see were the ones where Edward would try to speak. He had seen the same thing a dozen times by then since the night they met: Edward's face would light up for a split second with hope only to collapse immediately after into fear, despair, and finally resignation. There was no way he faked that, not that consistently, but then again there was no way he could have faked the rest of it either or the little coincidences that led to the two of them becoming close in the first place. 

When they pulled into his driveway he got out of the car in a stupor having a hard time believing that any of what he was experiencing could be real. 

The feeling multiplied as he followed Tarquin inside past the foyer and into the sitting room where Edward was sat with Victor Zsasz standing behind his chair in the corner.

Edward looked really scared and confused by the whole scenario, and while Oswald expected that look to multiply as he came in the room he was surprised to see it lessen. Edward seemed to relax   
A bit as though to say to him ‘Now that you’re here I know It’ll be alright.’

Somehow that look hurt more considering what Oswald knew he was going to end up doing.

Tarquin began by bringing out the file and showing the evidence within it to Edward. Edward went pale-faced as soon as the file was produced and he only seemed to get worse as Tarquin flipped through it relentlessly throwing every horrific image back into his face. Edward sheds a tear for the first time when the girl Kristen's lifeless body was displayed. When the files spoke about his time in Arkham Edward began to heave heavy silent sobs that rocked his whole body and It killed Oswald to not be able to stop them. 

Oswald ended up not being able to say much of anything as the confrontation continued. He was afraid if he opened his mouth he’d try to comfort Edward or worse he would break down himself and ask him why he did it and whether or not everything Oswald thought had happened was a lie. 

The actual act of kicking him out of the house turned out to be the least dramatic part of the whole process. Oswald watched as Tarquin finished questioning Edward and explained to him his next steps. Edward would get in a car and be driven anywhere he wished before Martin got home from school. Tarquin then gave him the address via a burner phone of a prepaid storage unit they bought in Edward’s name with cash, From there he could collect any of his personal items since he would not be returning to the mansion. 

Edward had stopped sobbing but tears were falling freely as his worst nightmare was being confirmed before his eyes. He was being kicked out at Oswald’s request and he wouldn’t even get to say goodbye to Martin. Zsasz pushed Edward up and out of the chair and towards the door.

Just before he left he peeked back around Zsasz and signed to Oswald.

Oswald braced himself, expecting a goodbye or maybe even a sorry but what he got was so much worse. Edward’s eyes widened as if to make sure he got his point across as he signed.

“When they find me this time there will be nothing left of me.”

Zsasz got directly behind Edward blocking him from view and turning him away from the house and Oswald to be ushered into the car. 

Tarquin led Oswald back inside and shut the door before Oswald could even find his voice back to speak. 

~“Stay away from the basement. There’s alive people, dead people, dead-alive people...It’s terrible.”~


	7. Chapter 7

~“The GCPD have been here twice in the last week. It’s obvious that they know….Do I really have to say it? You’re making Monsters in the Basement!”~

Martin had cried when he first found out. Then after hearing the whole story (or at least the non-graphic version) he had disappeared into his room and had yet to come out. 

Oswald found himself lost. He had hurt the two people who he’d spent his days trying to make happy. He sat down at the piano that night by the light of a single candle and nursed a glass of liquor for what felt like the first time in ages. 

Just as he was finishing his drink and was considering shuffling back to bed he heard Martin’s small footsteps approach in the dark. Martin came in with a candle of his own that he placed next to his father’s on the piano, bathing them in a small pool of flickering light. He then sat down beside Oswald taking up the half of the bench that he had subconsciously left open for Edward.

“You didn’t want him to go yet either.”

“Edward?” Oswald signed back rather than talking. He didn’t trust himself to not choke on the name.

Martin rolled his eyes and nodded, surprisingly good-natured for the time being.

Oswald shook his head and signed back. “What makes you say that?”

“When he was here you were happier.”

"You do understand why he had to go? To keep you safe, and to protect what I'm trying to build for you."

“What if that's what Edward wants too?”

Before Oswald could come up with an answer to that Martin nudged him a bit and then put his small hands on the keys and began to play.

When Martin played it wasn't as bold as Oswald or as precise and calculating as Edward. His fingers hesitated and so he usually took a slower tempo on most songs. It didn't matter to Oswald who adored his son's playing. He recognized the song right from the opening chords and found himself fighting back tears at how slow and sad it sounded now. 

He let Martin finish playing My Mother's Love and was frozen in the seat beside him, afraid that if he moved he wouldn't be able to keep himself together and the torrent of emotions he was feeling would spill over. 

Martin removed his hands from the keys and looked at him expectantly for a minute before signing. 

“Edward taught me that song.” 

'Of course, he did.' Oswald thought. Honestly, the two of them had to have some idea of how unfair they were being. He signed back to Martin again not trusting his voice to hold steady.

“Your grandmother used to sing that song to me. She promised she'd always protect me but then one day it was me who couldn't protect her. I won't do that again. I can't lose anyone else who I love.”

Martin shook his head and pushed off the bench. 

“Then why would you let them take him?”

Martin grabbed his candle and left Oswald sitting alone at the bench. His world was a little darker and had a little less music in it and that's when he allowed his tears to finally fall onto the black and white keys below. 

There was nothing left for him to say.


	8. Chapter 8

The election came and went. Oswald got the Mayor's seat again without much celebration or fanfare. Mostly he was just tired. He fired the Public Relations Team not really seeing a point to them now that he was in his last term. Let the public think what they wanted of him, at that point, there was nothing they could do. 

Martin was still upset about Edward but at least he understood enough to know that his father was also hurting so he wasn't too hard on him.

Their life was almost exactly as it had been before the election and before they had met Edward. It didn’t feel familiar though, instead, it seemed as if a huge part of their life was missing.

Oswald had been doing a great job one particular morning of keeping his thoughts away from Edward and focused on work until a bill about Arkham crossed his desk for approval. He suppressed his first reaction to the name which was a shiver up his spine and an overwhelming compulsion to replay the events dealing with Edward over and over again and forced himself to stay grounded in the present moment and do his damn job. He took two deep steadying breaths before looking back to the file and flipping it open. The proposal was an older one for something called the Arkham Project that he as mayor apparently just had to renew.

‘Couldn’t hurt to read through it .’ He thought to himself as he kept flipping and began to study the documents in the folder one by one. At first, he was just doing it to occupy his idle mind and see if he could detangle all of the Edward that still remained in his thoughts. As Oswald read though he began to find more and more discrepancies in the language of the plan. The details and the wording in the documents seemed purposely vague almost as if whoever wrote it was trying to leave loopholes in the language. This kind of thing had crossed Oswald's desk in the past but Oswald never blindly signed anything not trusting the other politicians in Gotham as far as he could throw them. 

He pulled out a pen and started circling all the places where it was really bad and scribbling some possible revisions to the side so he could revisit them later. 

When he got to one section of the bill however he paused. ‘This can’t be right’ He thought, picking the papers up and holding it closer to read again as though his proximity would make the words on the page any less terrible. Surely whoever drafted this could not have been saying what he thought they were. 

Oswald got up clutching the papers tightly in one hand and opened the door of his office. He caught Tarquin’s eye from where he stood talking up an intern and beckoned to him.

Tarquin made his excuses and oozed over closing Oswald’s door behind himself.

“Yes, sir?”

“Tarquin have you read through this Arkham Bill?”

Tarquins face darkened a bit with confusion before he answered. 

“No sir, not fully.” At Oswald’s expression, he quickly continued, “It’s just a renewal, Oswald. As far as I’ve heard there have been no changes made to the bill since it was first passed nearly 20 years ago.”

If anything Oswald’s expression soured further. When Tarquin still didn’t seem to be grasping the seriousness of the situation Oswald handed over the papers and pointed to the section that had given him pause for Tarquin to read it aloud.

“Once an individual is committed into the care of the staff at Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, that person then ceases to be a ward of the state. The sole responsibility for the well being of the said individual falls to Arkham Asylum until such time as they are deemed rehabilitated by the staff at Arkham. After an individual is rehabilitated they may then enter society at the discretion of the Chief of Psychiatry and Director of Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane.” Tarquin sighed and handed the papers back. “It all sounds perfectly fine to me.”

“You’re kidding right?” Oswald was practically steaming now. “They cease to be wards of the state! This bill gives Arkham the right to decide completely what happens to these people, a private facility basically takes ownership of them, and the rest of the bill doesn’t lay out anyway for us to have oversight. This is an unregulated business that gets to decide what happens to these people and you don’t find it fishy that the best they can do in the wording for their release is ‘At the discretion of the director.’ Tarquin for all we know there could be unlawful practices going on. Unregulated and untested treatments and who knows what else!”

“I think you’re forgetting they’re criminals Oswald. Why do you care?”

“I think you’re forgetting that they are still people. They may have committed crimes but the people in Arkham are victims too of bad circumstances and poor mental health. They are admitted for their own well being not so that they can be used as lab rats or slaves to a privatized lab or worse.”

“You have no proof that is even happening! You see some- in your opinion- questionable wording in a bill that every Mayor before you has approved on and all of a sudden you’re up in arms and ready to hurl around human trafficking accusations?” Tarquin paused as if waiting for an answer while Oswald tried to control the anger he could feel burning under his skin. “That’s not like you Oswald.” Tarquin continued. “Why don’t you just admit what this is really about.”

The fire in Oswald’s veins turned to ice in a second. His whole body tensed as he dropped the papers on his desk and looked Tarquin directly in his eyes. 

“What are you implying?” Oswald tried to keep his voice as flat and emotionless as possible but all the checked emotion underneath caused it to waver. 

“I think this has less to do with the bill and more to do with Edward.” At the sound of that name the ice in Oswald’s veins, the cold and hard anticipatory fury that held him frozen there in place, turned liquid again. He was suddenly very aware of his body, the blood rushing past his ears as he practically shook with the effort of not exploding on Tarquin, who really did not know when to shut up

“Listen with all due respect,” Tarquin continued as he put a hand out and touched Oswald’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for you to admit that you let that street boy get into your head. Yes, he had some bad breaks but you can’t let that or whatever personal attachments you and Martin had to him cloud your judgments. Everyone knows we don’t ask questions about Arkham. Poking your nose around there is a quick way to piss off a lot of powerful people in Gotham.”

When Oswald finally spoke it took everything in him to limit his response and in the end, he spat out two flat words: “Get. Out.”

Tarquin took in Oswald’s red face and clenched muscles and finally got the message. He retracted his arm with an apologetic wince and slunk out of the room shutting the door once more behind himself. 

When Tarquin had exited fully Oswald turned to his desk. He smoothed out the bill where it lay, trying to just fucking breathe. He had to do something. He needed a release. He slammed his fist down onto the desk hard over the papers. He knew they probably heard the thud in the other offices but he didn’t care. He pressed his fist down as if he could crush the renewal proposal or just press down on it until it disappeared. A tear fell on the pages and then another. With a start, he realized they were his tears and staggered back to let them continue burning hot trails down his face while he stood there in the middle of his office unmoored.

The real reason what Tarquin said upset him so badly was that he was partially right. Oswald did care about the injustice of it all but that part hadn’t been particularly surprising or upsetting after everything he’d seen in Gotham. What had upset him was the thought of Edward having been locked up in that place. The thought of sweet Edward who sat with him, who listened, who played beautifully on the piano, and whose eyes would light up in a beautiful wide grin when he found something that delighted him and he thought no one was looking. The thought of Edward and all that he was having been deemed less than a prisoner but someone else’s property to do with as they pleased at ‘their discretion’ was awful. 

He stood there swaying under the weight of his emotions and the realization that he really did care about Edward. There was no denying or changing that immutable fact. He didn’t try anymore to stop the flood of memories that came forward instead just letting himself be swept away on the wave of their every bittersweet interaction and he was floored by how much he missed him.

It felt like he stood there for an eternity before his train of memories came to the last time he saw Edward, the look in his eyes, and what he had frantically signed before disappearing from his life. 

“When they find me this time there will be nothing left of me.”

When he had first seen that he hadn’t allowed the image to haunt him. At the time he told himself that Edward was just saying anything he could think of to try and get his sympathy but now he wasn’t so sure. After seeing the Arkham Plan what if everything he suspected about the place was true? What if Edward had been sent to Arkham wrongfully and instead of treatment had only received more trauma? Then there were the mysterious circumstances that rendered Edward unable to speak which appeared nowhere in the files Tarquin had on him. Which got him wondering how Tarquin came into possession of Edward’s papers in the first place and why he seemed so ready to defend Arkham and tell Oswald not to poke around in their business. 

The more he thought about the situation the more it stank of a cover-up or conspiracy. Just when he had been getting close to Edward opening up, then the information about his criminal past had conveniently surfaced. At first, Oswald thought it may have been about protecting his image, but what if his image hadn’t been the one they were trying to protect? What if Edward knew things about Arkham that they didn’t want to surface? They could have silenced him and thrown him out on the streets never dreaming that someone would take him in, especially not the one person in the city who actually had the power to do something about it.

Oswald wiped the tears from his face and straightened up. He knew what he had to do. That night when he and Martin had splashed Edward with their car they had stumbled on to a mystery and Oswald decided it was about time he tried to solve that mystery himself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all of your kindness, kudos, and comments. You have reignited my passion for this fic and there are more chapters written and on their way.

'Where do you go when you don't want to be found?'

For all that Edward's thoughts usually sounded like riddles, this particular riddle was one he didn't readily have the answer to. 

When he was forced to leave the mansion he had the driver drop him off at the storage unit in the city where they placed his things. He could have been taken anywhere in the city by the driver but he didn’t want to risk it getting back to Strange where he was staying so that meant that shelters were out of the question not that he would have wanted to stay in one in the first place. The driver Tarquin had arranged for him hadn't been one of Oswald's usuals and therefore he didn't know sign language. Edward ended up having to literally wave the man off before he got the message and left which served as a cruel first reminder of the life he was re-entering on the streets unheard, uncared-for, and alone. 

He made his way into the storage facility and found his unit unlocking it with the key that the driver had given him. As he looked inside he felt a feeling of emptiness. When he went to Arkham everything he had owned had been taken in for evidence, or more likely sold or thrown away if he knew the GCPD. The storage unit was a reminder that everything that currently belonged to him was bought by Oswald who would likely never want to see him again. 

Over to one side was all of the clothes that Oswald had bought him in his time staying at the mansion. In the center of the floor was a box full of various odds and ends, mostly little gifts that Oswald or Martin would get him to occupy his time. There was a journal which Edward had never actually bothered to write in, a few books, and a chemistry set that Oswald had gifted him only just recently when Olga had complained about Edward and Martin sneaking away dishes and ingredients from the kitchen to do various experiments. 

On the other side of the unit leaning up against the wall was a small canvas. Edward knew if he turned it around he would see Martin’s painting that used to hang in his room. It was a portrait of Oswald, Edward, and Martin but painted with a childlike abstraction. Each of them were holding hands and painted in their favorite colors with Oswald’s purple bleeding into Martin's blue which then transitioned into Edward’s green. When Martin had given him the painting he explained that it was meant to symbolize how they were all connected. If Edward had looked at it at that moment he wasn't sure what he would have done. 

It was getting late and with a lack of a place to go or a way to transport his meager belongings Edward pulled shut the door to the unit and set about making a bed for himself on the floor out of some of his clothes. He would stay for the night then pack up what he could carry from the unit and move on to try and find a new place to hide.

The floor was cold and hard, a fact which could only be helped so much by the pile of sweaters Edward used as a makeshift bed. He lay there staring up at the ceiling not moving, not sleeping, and for once in his life not even thinking. He didn’t move when the lights cut out on him or when he heard the large bay doors of the storage area close for the night locking him in with all of the other things that people had discarded there. 

After a while, he settled into an uneasy sleep visited by his usual nightmares of Arkham. This time instead of just Strange, or Peabody, or the monsters watching him as he was experimented on, he saw Oswald and Martin on the other side of the glass. His voice was restored in the dream and he called out to them for help and yet they still didn’t hear or react. He screamed and pleaded at the top of his lungs and Oswald looked back into his eyes before turning Martin away from the glass. Then they faded out of sight leaving Edward to suffer alone and unheard.

Edward jerked awake. He sat up straight, painfully aware of where he was, but unsure of what had stirred him from his sleep. The lights still weren’t on which meant it wasn’t morning yet but he heard rustling in the unit next to him. He felt around him on the ground until he felt his glasses where he left them and placed them on his face. The glasses were more for comfort than for anything else considering the fact that the entire building was still dark. 

After a few minutes of the rustling in the unit beside him, the noise stopped and he heard whoever it was pulling the door shut behind themselves and locking it. He thought that would be the end of it and they would just go away but to his surprise, they made their way outside of his door next. Edward saw the beam of a flashlight under the crack of the door and forced himself to remain still and calm. His door was locked so there was a chance whoever it was wouldn’t be able to get in.

A second later the door flew open and he was blinded by the beam of a flashlight in his eyes. He held up his hands shielding his eyes as his mind started racing. Best case scenario it was a security guard who he could convince to let him go; at worst it was a police officer or one of Strange’s men there to take him back. A possibility that didn’t cross his mind was that a familiar feminine voice would exclaim “What the Hell?” and the flashlight beam would lower to reveal a face that he had last seen in the air ducts of Arkham Assylum while he was trying to make an escape attempt. 

“Forensics guy? What are you doing sleeping in a storage unit?” 

Edward wanted to tell Selina it was none of her business. He wanted to ask her what she was doing breaking into storage units but he supposed the answer was fairly obvious given what he had to guess was a duffel bag full of expensive odds and ends that she had on her shoulder.

Anything he wanted to say back very much depended upon whether or not she knew sign language so he gave it a shot.

“Do you know sign language? I lost my voice.”

Selina’s confusion deepened and Edward heaved a sigh. ‘This is going to be a long night.’ he thought, leaving his nest of clothes and walking over to his box to retrieve the notebook and pens he knew were inside.

He scrawled a brief note, ripped out the page, and handed it over for her to read.

‘It’s a long story.  
I cannot speak and I have no place to go.  
Just staying here for the night then moving on.  
I have nothing to steal so you can go and pretend we never saw each other.’

Selina took the note looking back and forth at him as she read it and then sighing heavily before she spoke.

“Let me guess. Strange did this to you yeah?” At Edward’s surprised look she just rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall crossing her arms over her chest. 

After a second of weighing his options Ed just nodded. What was the use in lying anymore? Selina figured it out herself and besides if he knew anybody who hated Strange it was her. He wondered whatever happened to her friend that she was trying to find in the basement. 

He was surprised to find when he looked up again that Selina’s smug look was gone, replaced by one of regret. She opened her mouth as if to speak then shut it again beginning to pace back and forth grumbling to herself until finally, she groaned making up her mind about something and turning back to Ed.

“Alright if you want out of here grab all of your crap and follow me.”

Edward now at a complete loss spread his arms and mouthed back ‘Why?’

“Look if you need a place to stay and you need to stay off of Strange’s radar then I know the perfect place.”

Edward shook his head and wrote her another note thrusting it into her hands.

‘You misunderstand.  
Why are you helping me.’

Selina dropped her gaze not able to look him in the eye as she continued.

“Look the last time I saw you I was breaking in and you were breaking out. Bridgit and I had to get out of their guns blazing- literally- I figured once we tripped all the alarms you wouldn’t have stood a chance. So maybe I just want to give you a chance now. ” 

Edward looked at her dumbfounded for a second then scrambled to write back a response but Selina was quick to snap at him and quickly went back to playing tough and indifferent. 

“Okay now skip the thank you note already and grab your crap before I change my mind!”

Edward jumped up and grabbed a bag throwing the notebook, some pens, and some clothes inside of it; he also packed up the chemistry set, ‘You never know,’ and lastly he went to the canvas in the corner and carefully removed it from the frame and rolled it up tight before wrapping it in an undershirt and also adding it to the bag. He gave the room a once over to make sure everything else he could do without and then turned to Selina and nodded.

After that, all she gave him was a quick “Alright. Stay quiet and keep up.” before she turned and left Edward to follow her shutting the unit behind them. 

Edward was never particularly good at physical activity and following Selina, he could see why she earned the nickname Cat. As they exited the storage unit she effortlessly climbed the chain link fence outside that was some ten feet tall. Once she reached the top she jumped down, landing with barely a sound. Ed followed behind, breathing heavily and shaking the fence with the effort it took to pull himself up and over. Once he reached the top he opted to climb back down the outside rather than jumping. When he saw Selina watching his hands on her hips impatiently he actually did try to jump down the last two feet. He landed awkwardly and would have fallen, had Selina not grabbed him with surprisingly strong hands, and pulled him upright. 

He signed his thanks unsure if she understood but she just nodded and kept going. 

Much of the rest of the night passed the same way with her ducking down alleys or sliding smoothly between fences while Ed struggled to keep up, getting caught, or more than once knocking over trash cans that he couldn’t quite make out in the dark. Every time Selina would look back at him, eyes flashing in warning and Edward would wish he still had his voice either to snap at her that he was doing his best or perhaps grumble under his breath he was sorry he wasn’t a damn parkour expert. 

When they finally got to the building where they were staying, Selina jumped off the brick wall deftly grabbing onto a fire escape ladder and used her arms to pull herself up into a climb, disappearing through an open window.

Edward stopped, still huffing and puffing and unsure of how many blocks they had just put between them and the storage unit. At this point he actually found himself missing his bed made of sweaters. 

When Selina poked her head back out of the window and gestured for him to come up; he spread his hands wide as if to say ‘What do you expect from me.’

He was taller than her so he didn’t need to do a spring off of the wall (not that he was sure he could’ve). He jumped for the ladder failing the first time and the second time snagging it with both hands as it clanged dangerously. He struggled for a few moments, realizing that even if he didn’t have a bag on his back a pull up would have been a lot to ask of himself. Selina appeared at the top of the ladder and tugged on the aforementioned bag giving him the extra force necessary to climb the ladder and get his feet under him.

When he climbed through the window he saw a dimly lit room in what likely used to be a nice apartment. 

Selina turned to him but instead of commenting on his pathetic performance with the ladder as he expected she gestured to a couch nearby with a blanket and a few throw pillows.

“You can get some sleep there. I'll introduce you to the others when they get up.”

Edward set down his bag and turned back expecting Selina to elaborate on what she meant by ‘the others’ but she was already gone, leaving Edward to wonder whether she disappeared into another room or back out the still open window.

He found he was so exhausted he didn't care. He folded his long body up on the sofa and pulled the blanket over himself before passing out into a thankfully dreamless sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Edward woke up the next morning in what was easily the strangest situation he’d ever been in. 

He rolled over onto his back and stretched his long limbs over the side of the surprisingly comfortable sofa. He then opened his eyes to look at the ceiling but instead, he saw a face hovering above his own so close that he nearly went cross-eyed.

He immediately rolled off of the sofa and into the floor which had the unfortunate side effect of tangling his legs in the blanket he used the night before. He was only able to awkwardly scooch away from his supposed assailant as she approached him.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you.” The woman who had been standing over him held her arms out placatingly with an apologetic look on her face. It was a kind face Edward thought somewhere absently in the back of his mind. She had full cheeks and wide too-innocent eyes that looked at him with concern. The woman had waist-length red hair and a flowery dress that would have been pretty, had she not chosen to finish off the look with knee-length mismatched fuzzy socks and an oversized ratty striped sweater. The woman kept speaking even as Edward stared at her trying to take her in.

“Selina told me all about how she found you and brought you back here, which omigod what a softie right? She acts all ‘Oh I’m Selina and I don’t care about anyone’ but then she keeps bringing us new friends.” the woman punctuated this statement by clapping her hands excitedly. 

‘Us?’ Edward thinks before he is startled again by a voice across the room.

“Ivy! Give it a rest, would you? The guy just woke up.” Edward turned to see the source of the voice and saw another woman sitting in an armchair across the room. 

She had on what appeared to be a bright silver bodysuit. Edward saw the strange silver fabric went from inside her chunky combat boots disappearing under a black and grey flannel with rolled-up sleeves then appearing again at her arms and up her neck in a hood that smoothly covered her head so that only her face and her hands were visible. Perhaps the most shocking part of her appearance was the angry warped scars on what little skin she had visible and the fact that in her bare hands she held a mug of what Edward could see was steaming hot liquid and was drinking it down gulps at a time without so much as a wince when she swallowed. 

“Don’t mind Bridgit.” The redhaired woman told Edward as she reached out to help him to his feet. “She likes to act just as tough as Selina but underneath all that tinfoil she's got a warm gooey center.” She gasped eyes widening as she thought of the perfect analogy. “Like a burrito!”

Bridgit looked unimpressed by this. “I know you did not just compare the Hispanic girl to a burrito.”

Ivy’s face screws up in confusion as she turns away from Edward and back towards her…Friend? Housemate??

“You’re Hispanic?” 

Bridgit pushed herself out of her chair and stomped away towards what Edward assumed was the kitchen all the while grumbling in Spanish. The few words Edward picked up roughly translated to ‘I’ll burn down this house with all you gringos still inside.’

“So…” Ivy said, her full attention turning back to Edward once more. “I may have gone through your bag while you were sleeping but it was only so that I could put your things in your new room. Which by the way you’ll have to share with my plants but I figured you wouldn’t mind because I saw that you have a chemistry set and I figured you liked science and I figured one scientist to another you could actually help me out as long as you’re staying here with us.”

Edward was sure that even if he had his voice he wouldn't have been able to interrupt Ivy’s stream of consciousness. It wasn’t that she talked fast so much as she just monologued without recognizing the other person’s need for input. 

“Also, I noticed a really nice painting in your bag and I wanted to know if you were a painter and also if that was a painting of your husband and son.” Edward stopped even trying to cut in startled with the direction that her little tirade had taken. “If they are then they can come to stay with us soon because I’ve been telling Selina and the others I have my eye on an abandoned place with a greenhouse where we should move next because then we’d have more space for all the strays she keeps bringing us.” 

Ivy produced Ed’s notebook and a pen from somewhere inside her oversized sweater and handed it to him.

“Selina also said you would need these to talk.” 

Edward took them, not exactly sure what part of her long spiel he should respond to first. 

In the end, he responded to all of it and handed her back a response to each of her points in order.

‘It’s alright that you went through my things.  
I don’t mind sharing a room with your plants. I'm just glad to have a place to stay.  
What kind of science do you do? Botany?  
I didn’t paint the painting and they aren’t my husband and son.  
You mentioned others. Are there more here besides you, Selina and Bridgit?’

Ivy took a second to read it over and then answered his last question. “Oh yeah well now there’s you, me, Selina, Bridgit, and the big guy. He’s probably still asleep but don’t worry he’s a huge softie and I think he’ll love you.” 

Edward had to doubt her statement about ‘the big guy' because she’d said pretty much the same thing about Selina and Bridgit who from what Edward had seen were anything but softies. But Ivy seemed to see the best in people with childlike enthusiasm. 

Ivy then handed back Edward’s notebook and led him back down the hall opposite the direction where Bridgit disappeared, presumably towards his room.

Upon arriving, Ivy opened the door for him and Edward realized it wasn’t that he was sharing a room with Ivy’s plants so much as they were sharing one with him. The room was almost completely dominated by flora of all different species

There were a desk and table and the parts that weren’t covered by plants had various viles and beat up looking scientific instruments. His things and his bag were laid out carefully on his bed which was the only plant free space in the room. 

“Do you like it? I tried to make it so that the ones that are closer to your bed are the plants that have healing and calming properties. Then as they get further away...well let’s just say you may not want to get too close to the ones in the corners.”

Edward had to admit he did like it. His apartment had been his first place all too himself and it too was cluttered with a controlled chaos that made sense to him. It was nothing like the cold clean rooms of his childhood or the barren cell block at Arkham. Even his room in Oswald’s mansion had felt transient as if a part of him knew he couldn’t afford to give in to the hope that it was home. Edward dampened down on those rather depressing thoughts and instead refocused on the present and the hopeful look in Ivy’s face as she watched him look around the room.

He opened his notebook and scrawled a note handing it to her.

‘I like it a lot actually.  
Thank you.’

Ivy just had time to smile back before they heard Selina’s voice calling from the front room.

“Hey Ivy? Bridgit? Guys, I’m back!”

Ivy beamed even brighter and grabbed Ed’s hand, practically yanking him down the hall back to the front room he had slept in.

Selina was standing and Bridgit had taken up her spot from earlier in the armchair in the corner. Ivy and Ed took the couch. Once they sat down Selina spoke again addressing the room at large.

“Listen like I told you guys before Ed here was in a pretty tough spot. The same spot all of us are in I guess because he escaped from Strange too. So I figured if he wants, and if you guys want, he could stay.”

Bridgit shrugged noncommittally at the same time Ivy clapped her hands together and turned to face Edward. “You can be a part of our freak family!”

Selina groaned at the same time Bridgit grumbled: “We still never agreed to call it that Ivy.”

“Besides,” Selina cut in, “Before he makes his decision we should probably introduce him to the big guy.”

Ivy jumped up and bolted towards the back of the house once more with a cry of “I’ll get him!” as Selina began to explain.

“So a few months back on the night me and Bridgit broke out a lot more people escaped from Indian Hill. People who look a bit different or have special abilities mostly.”

“Freaks.” Bridgit cut in. Edward was surprised to see that despite her reaction from earlier she had a defiant almost proud expression as she said it.

Selina continued. “Bridgit can withstand extreme heat and kick ass with a flamethrower, Ivy may seem normal but she’s not as old as she looks and has mad skills with plants and people, and the big guy, well he used to be a gangster who I ran around with sometimes only he got shot in the head and Strange brought him back to life so now he’s…” She struggled to think of the word before settling on one that was a little more kind, “Simple.”

Ed wondered how many more freaks there were and where all of them had gone. Edward raised his pen and notebook but before he could write down the question he was startled into dropping them at the sight of Ivy reentering the room followed by what if his eyes did not deceive him was a nearly 7-foot tall Zombie.

The man’s skin was completely white as was his hair but his face was surprisingly lit up in a smile as he saw the occupants in the room.

“Friends!” He shouted causing Edward to jump. Only he wished he hadn’t because it was then that the Zombie? Man? Freak? Creature? Saw him and his face turned curious and questioning as he looked between Ed and the three girls.

Ivy grabbed Butch’s arm and pointed at Edward. “Ed is a friend too, he's going to be staying with us.”

“Friend?” He repeated this time as a question.

Selina stepped in between them. “Ed this is Butch, aka Cryus apparently, aka the big guy and aka-” 

It was at this point Butch/Cyrus/The Big Guy interrupted her and just when Edward thought he couldn’t get any weirder began to sing a song.

“Solomon Grundy,  
Born on a Monday,  
Christened on Tuesday,  
Married on Wednesday,  
Took ill on Thursday,  
Grew worse on Friday,  
Died on Saturday,  
Buried on Sunday.  
That was the end,  
Of Solomon Grundy.”


	11. Chapter 11

Arkham Asylum was the stuff of nightmares. Oswald went there in order to see first hand what it was really like. He brought the bill with him from his office and requested to speak with the Head Psychiatrist and the Warden. Much to his surprise, Oswald had been informed that they were one and the same person which did nothing to reassure him of the operation’s legitimacy. 

He was then led through the Asylum past common rooms behind fences and cells behind glass as if their occupants were not just incarcerated but on display. He saw people that seemed to be at all levels of cognitive function. Some who seemed to give no outward appearance of unwell and were functioning normally, while others with unkempt hair and torn uniforms were screaming, thrashing, or foaming at the mouth. The ones that Oswald found the most disturbing though were those who sat perfectly still and quiet with vacant defeated expressions not even bothering to look around at all the chaos surrounding them. Oswald wondered what kind of person Edward was in this place but the only way that he could imagine him was scared out of his mind the way he’d been when they first met by the side of the road. 

He was shaken out of his thoughts about Edward when he nearly collided into the woman who was leading him. She turned around unbothered by his proximity and looked down her nose through her large-framed glasses to address him.

“Wait here,” was the only thing she said before disappearing into the office they had stopped in front of leaving Oswald standing there.

With a lack of anything better to do he read the script on the door. ‘Professor Hugo Strange’ 

He could hear the man in question speaking in hushed tones with the woman who he assumed was another doctor before the door swung open and she exited and walked past Oswald without so much as another glance.

“Mister Mayor, please won’t you come in and sit down.” Strange drawled as he appeared in the doorway holding the door open and gesturing past himself to his office. 

Oswald studied the man before him as he approached. He sported a neatly trimmed chinstrap beard and yet his head was bald, meticulously so, to the point that his head shined in the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway. Rather than the typical attire, you would expect from someone in the medical profession he was dressed smartly in a fashion-forward three-piece suit and tie that almost rivaled Oswald’s own. Almost. The look was completed with a pair of perfectly round and slightly tinted glasses that did little to hide the fact that he was also looking Oswald up and down as he approached appraisingly even as he continued to smile As Oswald entered the office Strange stayed at the door allowing Oswald to realize with no small amount of surprise that the man was about his height and even actually an inch or two shorter. 

As Oswald took the seat across from the desk he could feel Strange’s eyes lingering on his back. The continued examination combined with the fact that he heard the door click shut immediately set Oswald on edge, a fact that was not helped in the slightest when Strange crossed behind his chair effectively circling him like a shark before taking his own seat across the desk and smiling once more. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today Mister Mayor?” Strange asked the question in the same deliberate way as he spoke before slow and calculated, emphasizing Oswald’s title in a way that put a shiver up his spine which he quickly repressed and began to speak. 

“Well as I’m sure you’re well aware every few years the city has to process a renewal of the bill that grants support to this facility. When the renewal came across my desk I couldn’t help but notice that the language was somewhat...permissive.” 

“Permissive?” Strange echoed back at him. Oswald thought he saw the corner of the man's mouth quirk up in a knowing smirk but the look was gone before it even started to form. 

“Yes. The language of the bill was very vague as to what exact methods are going to be utilized on your patients and also to what end.”

“I see. Well, I assure you Mister Cobblepot as someone who helped to draft the bill in the first place that there was no ill intent. This is a mental facility after all and I thought that the ends we are trying to achieve here would be very apparent, namely, The improvement of each of my patients.”

Strange did have a point but the way that he said it rubbed Oswald the wrong way. There was the note of condescension and arrogance almost as if he were speaking to a child. Oswald gritted his teeth and allowed the slight knowing that he had to keep both his composure and his line of questioning. 

“And what about the methods?” 

This time Strange didn’t bother hiding his smug smile, letting a low chuckle escape from his lips even though Oswald could see nothing funny about what he asked.

“Forgive me Mister Mayor but I hardly thought that exact methods we use were of any concern to a politician such as yourself. Your predecessors certainly thought the same when they signed the bill without revision.” Oswald noted the way he enunciated politician, the word coming out sharper and less honeyed than everything else that dripped from Strange’s tongue.

“Well, I am not my predecessors,” Oswald said simply. “I intend to be more thorough.”

“I see.” All of the mirth disappeared from Strange’s face as it hardened into something resigned and determined. “Well, I suppose if it would ease your mind I would be happy to give you a tour of the facility so that you can see our methods for yourself.” He stood up and glided back towards the door to hold it open for Oswald once more without even waiting to hear his answer. 

Oswald blinked in surprise before coming back to his senses and getting up to follow the Professor. He had not been expecting Strange to agree to him poking around even if it was under his supervision but that's exactly what happened. Strange and Oswald headed back out of his office and we're joined by the same stern-looking woman from earlier who Strange introduced as his 'Dear assistant' Ms. Peabody.

As they toured the facility she walked slightly ahead of the two men using her key card, or at some points actual keys to open doors while Strange would explain to Oswald what each room and each section of the facility was used for. 

The facility had a small sense of order in its chaos and as they went along Oswald saw any number of haunting and haunted individuals but saw nothing to suggest any foul play and not for lack of searching either. Every hallway, every room, every closet they passed Oswald inquired about and every time Strange had an answer or an explanation. They ended up touring nearly every inch of the place but besides being an old building nothing seemed to be amiss. 

Oswald inquired as to why they didn't use some of their rather large budget to update the building but Strange explained that much of their budget went to the prescriptions that nearly all of their patients relied on in some form or another and some more than one. Interestingly enough though they saw many patients and many guards everywhere Oswald didn't see many other doctors besides Strange and Peabody.

It was dark outside by the time Oswald, physically and mentally exhausted, finally left the asylum. He cursed himself at having shown up in the first place and showing his hand. It wasn't as if he was just going to find whatever it was he was looking for in plain sight. He knew that Strange was up to something and he now knew from meeting him that Strange was too calculating to ever allow him another chance to prove his suspicions. He'd just have to find some other way of figuring out Strange's game. His heart wrenched in his chest as he realized what he needed was to talk to someone who had been on the inside.

What Oswald didn't know is that he hadn't actually seen Arkham in its entirety and that what he was looking for hadn't been in front of his face but rather beneath his feet the entire time. 

He also didn't know that as his car disappeared into the night The doctor and his assistant disappeared deep into the underbelly of the asylum. Away from all prying eyes Strange turned to face his assistant and spoke in his oozing low voice. "We have to contact our friend at the mayor's office and tell him he was right. Oswald Cobblepot is getting suspicious and it's only a matter of time before he tries to seek out Mr. Nygma. Time to tie up loose ends."

"I'll contact him right away, doctor." Ms. Peabody practically purred back, excited that she would get to see her favorite patient again soon.


End file.
